The Fable of the Prince and the Werewolf
by nechoco kitty
Summary: /el príncipe y el hombre lobo/ In which Scott is the broken-hearted prince of the forest who encounters a lonely, homeless werewolf. /fairy tale au/
1. capítulo uno: Érase una vez

[ the fable of the prince and the werewolf, a teen wolf fanfic ]

* * *

**el príncipe y el hombre lobo **

_capítulo uno: Érase una vez un príncipe con cuernos the torcipelo suave…_

.

Once upon a time there was a prince with antlers of soft velvet and all throughout the forest, the people would marvel at their beauty and majesty.

"Oh, look how large they are!" they would cry. _«Lleguen al cielo como ramas de árboles!»_

The people did not know of their weight, of how the prince's head would bow under their mass. They thought him humble and shy—not proud or arrogant like other princes!

"We are so lucky to have him as our prince," they would say. "We are truly blessed!"

They did not care to know of their prince's tears.

Such are the sorrows of a prince—to suffer in silence.

.

* * *

.

**translations from the spanish:**

* the prince of the forest and the werewolf  
* once upon a time there was a prince with antlers of soft velvet...  
* they reach for the sky like tree branches


	2. capítulo dos: Usted no necesita a nadie

[ the fable of the prince and the werewolf, a teen wolf fanfic ]

**el príncipe y el hombre lobo **

_capítulo dos « Usted no necesita a nadie más que a mí, mi príncipe », dijo su acompañante._

.

"You do not need anyone but me, my prince," said his companion.

He whispered this in the morning and in the night, his voice sweet and melodious as he promised to love his prince for all eternity. To bathe him in rosewater and clean all the burrs from his soft skin. Nothing would harm his prince when he was around.

"You are my moon and stars, O Prince," he sang, and his voice rose high up in the air.

His devotion was matched by no one, and all the people were inspired by his love of the prince.

"He is right," they would say. «Nadie ama al príncipe como él».

And the maiden of flowers would sigh into the night as she wove the prince his crown of sweet-smelling blooms. "Your love is selfish, Stiles. The prince is for everyone but you wish to lock him up tight, a prisoner of your heart. You cannot lock up his love, for he is the sun and without him the forest cannot bloom."

"But if he belongs to everyone, what can he keep of himself? What can belong to him and only him?" the companion asked.

But nobody had any answers.

.

* * *

.

**translations from the spanish:**

* chapter two "You do not need anyone but me, my prince," said his companion.

* No one loves the prince like he.


	3. capítulo tres: un príncipe y su amante

[ the fable of the prince and the werewolf, a teen wolf fanfic ]

**el príncipe y el hombre lobo **

_capítulo tres: Había una vez un príncipe y su amante …_

.

There was once a prince and his lover, a young maiden by the name of Allison.

She hailed from a nearby village, but would venture into the forest every dawn to sit by the prince. She would weave him crowns of blossoms to wear on his mighty antlers and sing him songs of such great beauty that the birds would stop their songs to listen.

He would rest his head on her lap as she told him every detail of her mundane life, the trials and tribulations of her every day existence. How her mother wished for her to grow up long before her time. How her father wished her to stay a child for all her days.

And he would listen to her sweet voice and promise her a seat at his table, a place in his life, for today and all days on end. They would lie together in the meadows of his forest, taking pleasure in each other and their love.

The hours would bleed into each other, day by day, week after week, and their devotion to each other remained constant.

The forest rustled with gossip of their prince and his lover.

_One day,_ they said, _one day she will take leave of her village and cleave unto him, and they shall become like one_.

Instead she began to take her leave of them, and by extension him. First altogether slowly, and then all at once.

When before she would stay at the prince's side until all light bled from the sky, now she would leave sooner and sooner, until one day she left when the sun was at its zenith, and the next she came not at all.

"Oh, how I miss her so," the prince would sigh. "Now who will make pretty things to adorn my antlers?" And Harley was summoned from her duties to weave him garlands, to see if her artistry would please the melancholy prince.

"These are very beautiful," the prince said, and it was true for Harley was the forest's maiden of flowers and all that bloomed fell under her domain.

Everything she wove for the prince was twenty times more beautiful than anything his lover had ever made. The flowers more fragrant, the designs more pleasing to the eye, and yet… the prince was no more happier than before.

"Her voice was so beautiful," the prince said, "and her songs filled my heart with love." And all throughout the forest they searched for the best singers with the most melodious voices. The birds gathered at the prince's sides and sang and sang with all the songs they carried in their hearts. They held contests to outdo one another, singing louder and higher and with more passion each time.

The prince tried to muster up a smile and thank them for their work, but his heart was not in it. There was none of his usual warmth. Their singing wasn't enough to ease his sadness.

The people cried out for their prince, "Oh! We cannot ease his misery! It causes us such pain to see him sad, and it hurts even more that we cannot ease his sorrow."

The prince heard the cries of his people, and he felt the weight of their unhappiness upon him. What use was a prince that could not smile? What use was a prince whose sadness covered the forest like clouds in the sky.

"What troubles you, my prince?" the maiden of flowers asked, and the prince opened his mouth but no words came out.

Harley knew of the prince's former lover, and though she was wise, she felt at a loss on what to say and so she said nothing and simply allowed him to rest his head upon her lap while she sang to him her wordless flower songs.

It wasn't the same as the village songs his lover would sing, but for the first time in a long time, the prince felt himself smile.

.

.

**translations from the spanish:**

* chapter three: There was once a prince and his lover...

.

.

note: harley is rebecca "harley" harlowe, who briefly appeared in the pilot and a handful of other scenes.

i'm sorry for the crap updates. it's a bad habit. :(

good news is that i've got a longer, lydia-centric work out on AO3. either check me out under "someotherchick" or wait until i spottily update it over here. it's titled "your body, a borrowed thing" and should be up within the week. :)


End file.
